


Different Shade of Pink

by orphan_account



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Fluff, Hair colour, M/M, Making out in a cop car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I distinctly remember telling you that you could not, under any circumstances, get your hair dyed.” </p>
<p>Zoe shrugged, as if she didn't have half a head's worth of cotton candy pink hair shrugging with her. “Mr. Rick told me that it was fine.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Shade of Pink

**Author's Note:**

> A cute lil fic

“I distinctly remember telling you that you could  _ not,  _ under any circumstances, get your hair dyed.” 

 

Zoe shrugged, as if she didn't have half a head's worth of cotton candy pink hair shrugging with her. “Mr. Rick told me that it was fine.”

 

“Wait,” Floyd said. Zoe watched him patiently. “Rick took you to get your hair dyed.  _ My _ Rick?”

 

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Yes,  _ your  _ Rick. What other Rick?”

 

Floyd sat back in his chair, as Zoe went back to the homework in front of her. He glared at the wall, as if he could see through it, to where he knew Rick was standing, silently. He could picture, perfectly, the half-guilty, half-carefree look that would be waiting for him.

 

He shook the thoughts of murder away, for now, and turned his attention back to his daughter. It took him all of the twenty minutes that they were together for him to get used to it. Even then, it startled him a bit every time he looked at her again. She hugged him a bit harder this time when they eventually had to separate.

 

“That stuff better still be there when I see you next.” He warned.

 

Zoe giggled. “I thought you didn't like it?”

 

He smiled as he held out his wrists to Rick, deliberately avoiding his gaze. Only once they were out of earshot of the apartment, did he start.

 

“You took my daughter to get her  _ hair _ dyed? When? Why? I didn't give you permission to do that. What the fuck, Rick?”

 

Rick let out a breath of laughter.

 

“Oh yeah, laugh it up, jackass. Answer my questions.”

 

Rick shoved him into the back of a cop car, and then sat down next to him. He maneuvered around for a few seconds, trying to fit their sides together at the least awkward angle. It was a small cab, and they were big men.

 

After Rick had deemed himself comfortable, he responded. “Yes, I took your daughter to get her hair dyed. When? Tuesday, I think. Yeah, after she finished her homework. Why? Because she said, and I quote,  _ man, I wish Dad would let me get my hair dyed. It would be so cool.”  _ Rick stopped a moment to laugh. “And I don't think that she needs your permission to dye her hair.”

 

Floyd glared at the man beside him. “Of course not. It's  _ hair. _ It'll grow back. Just, what about all the time that she wasted in that salon chair? Oh god, how much did it  _ cost?  _ What do I owe you?”

 

Rick laughed again, more lightheartedly. “Nothing. You don't have to pay me back, I get a nice paycheck.” 

 

Floyd rolled his eyes. “Bullshit.” He said. “C’mon, what's the amount, and I'll get it back to you.”

 

“One hundred and ninety,” Rick mumbled. But he quickly covered it up by saying, “Really, Floyd. My treat.”

 

They turned to each other at the same time, leaning forward for more effective next words. As aforementioned, it was an unbearably small cab that they sat in, and as they were facing, their breathing mingled, noses just close enough to feel. 

 

Floyd's voice was low. “You sure?”

 

Rick swallowed. “Floyd.” He said. He said his name like it was supposed to be the end of the argument, but Floyd took it as an invitation, leaning forward and putting their foreheads together.

 

_ “Floyd,” _ Rick whispered, but this time it was cut off and sounded a little desperate and frightened.

 

_ “Rick,”  _ Floyd hissed, wanting it to say,  _ get a hold of yourself, kiss me back, moron. _

 

And that might have been what Rick got out of it, seeing as the next thing he knew, a pair of slightly chapped lips landed on his. Floyd immediately smiled into the kiss, overwhelmed with affection. That apparently made Rick angry, because he bit down roughly on Floyd's bottom lip, wrenching a gasp out of him. Rick placed a hand on Floyd's upper arm and tilted his head back with the other, giving himself more access to the man below him. Floyd opened up willingly, his eyes shutting tight and his pulse flying in his throat.

 

When Rick detached for a breath, Floyd went right on to his neck, biting along the edge of his jaw and clamping down on his pulse point. Rick let out a delicious noise and pulled Floyd back up to his level, pressing their lips together once more. 

 

Rick was inching closer and closer by the second, and soon was literally sitting on Deadshot's lap, straddling him and pinning him in place to be devoured. This went on for a while, before Rick gave it up and sat back down on the seat next to him. 

 

Deadshot was panting for breath, and swallowed—his adam's apple caught Rick's attention—before saying, “You could have at least gotten a different shade of pink.”

 

Rick blanked for a moment.  _ What the fuck is he talking about? _ Before breaking into laughter, slapping Floyd's ribcage. “Shut the fuck up,” he said, giggling.

 

Floyd smiled, thinking that if all it took was getting his daughter's hair dyed for Rick to do  _ that _ again, he was completely on board.

  
Rick then cleared his throat, and wiped the spit off of his mouth with his sleeve. “Now,” he began. “I seem to recall you mentioning something about me being  _ your Rick?” _


End file.
